


Come Here Often?

by subtlehysteria



Series: Cinderella AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, First Meetings, Keith is the prince, Lance is Cinderella, M/M, but don't tell Lance that, they're just two soft boys looking for love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 10:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: “What about you?” Lance says instead. “What do they call you, sir?”The corner of the boy’s lips tilts up, his eyebrows scrunching. “You don’t recognize me?”“Should I?” Lance says, looking the boy up and down. He doesn’t look familiar. Were they playmates once, perhaps?“No,” the boy says, shaking his head vigorously. He bites his bottom lip. “Uh, never mind.”“May I at least have your name then, sir?” Lance asks, his own lips forming a smile.“Keith,” the boy supplies. “They call me Keith, or well… my friends do, anyway.”Lance eyes him. “Keith,” he says, testing out the name. It suits him.*Lance runs away to the forest in the hopes of a reprieve from his stepmother and stepbrother. What he doesn't expect is to find a handsome apprentice with a knack for getting on his nerves.





	Come Here Often?

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this series out of order. I started with May I Have This Dance and A Secret Garden and then decided to come back and write how Keith and Lance first met. This scene is based on the beautiful art by @kiilea on Tumblr whose [Klance Cinderella AU](http://kiilea.tumblr.com/post/172498031446/come-here-often-a-cinderella-au-no-one) started it all. I highly recommend you go check out their amazing work, it's so so beautiful!
> 
> So, without further ado, here is the runaway horse meet-cute you didn't know you needed:

He was running. He doesn't have anywhere to go but that didn’t mean he can't run. He needs to get away for as long as he can. He just wants an hour by himself. He deserves that much.

“Come on, Blue,” Lance whispers, directing his silver-grey mare through the long grass towards the nearby forest, far far away from his childhood home. He hadn’t bothered with a trot, in the beginning, instead breaking into a full canter. The sooner he got away from that place, the better.

That place. Never in his life had he thought so badly of his home. Had never thought that was a possibility, to want to run away from home. And yet that was what it had come to, all because of a few cruel words.

Lance shakes his head. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, drying instantly in the wind. He tries wiping them off on his shoulders but they just keep coming and coming and he can’t stop crying, can’t see anything and –

“Woah!”

Blue kicks up onto her hind legs, whinnying in fright. Lance holds on tight, calling for his horse to calm down. Blue wasn’t easily spooked so what –?

And then he sees it. A gigantic elk, probably standing well above Lance’s height, just a few feet away.

Blue brings her forelegs back to the ground, stamping her hooves in apprehension.

“Steady girl,” Lance whispers, patting Blue consolingly on the neck. They needed to stay calm in a situation like this. Even if his mind is still buzzing with anger and sorrow and grief. Even if the tear stains were hardening on his cheeks.

“Steady,” Lance says again, more for himself than Blue. He looks at the elk, taking him in. He’s standing his ground, chest puffed out, antlers raised high. No wonder Blue had gotten a fright. However, the elk was also beautiful in his might. This strong animal standing before them, chestnut-brown coat glossy and gold-tipped in the sunlight.

“You’re very handsome,” Lance finds himself saying.

The elk tilts his head in question, brown eyes blinking intelligently at Lance.

Lance smiles for what feels like the first time in a very long time. Too long. “I mean it. Polish up those antlers and all the ladies and gents will be fawning over you. Pun intended.”

The elk shakes his head, almost mock admonishing.

“Yeah, I know, not my best joke. I’m a little rusty,” Lance says with a shrug. He only ever really speaks to the mice at home. Not that they weren’t good company but… he misses exchanging silly jokes with his papa, making his mama laugh until tea squirted out of her nose. It wasn’t the prettiest picture but it was still a beautiful memory in Lance’s mind. The happiest moments are the most beautiful.

Suddenly, a horn blasts from somewhere behind them. Lance hears dogs barking, the stamping of hooves.

_Hunters._

“Quickly, you must go,” Lance says, turning back to the elk. He stands there, unwilling to budge.

“Please, you must go or you will get hurt!” _Otherwise you will be killed_. Lance couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t.

The elk met his eyes and for a moment, Lance was taken aback. It was like their heartbeats synced, their souls becoming one.

Another horn sounded, far too close for Lance’s liking.

“Please,” Lance urges. The elk nods his head in understanding before taking off, disappearing amongst the trees.

Lance sighs in relief, but his reprieve is short lived. He hears the sharp bark of a dog and then Blue is off.

“Blue. Blue! Please, slow down!” But Blue wasn’t listening, winding at a high speed between trees and bushes, kicking up dirt behind her. Lance adjusts his grip, not wanting to pull at Blue’s mane but unwilling to fall off either. At this speed, he could easily break something.

“Blue, please!” Lance tries again. Blue only gives him a defiant whinny, continuing through the forest.

Blue was known for her sassy attitude, and usually, Lance adored it. But right now, it was very much _not_ appreciated.

“Sir? Sir!”

Lance turns his head, looking for the source of the voice. Had he heard correctly? Was someone calling out to him?

“Sir! Are you alright?”

A flash of red and black appears amongst the tree trunks, running alongside Lance.

“Hold on!” a boy calls, nearing Lance.

“It’s alright,” Lance says. “I’ve got it!” Even though he really, really doesn’t.

The boy reaches out anyway, a gloved hand wrapping around Lance’s, gently pulling back.

“Woah, there,” the boy croons softly, and Blue… starts slowing down. Huh.

They come to a lazy trot and eventually a walk. The boy lets go, butter-soft leather gliding against Lance’s skin.

Lance looks about, finding that they stopped in a clearing. Sunshine beams down through the foliage, creating lazy patterns on the forest floor. It smells like dirt and rain and a sweet array of flowers Lance will never know the names of. When was the last time Lance went on a walk through the forest, just for himself?

“Are you alright?” the boy asks.

Lance, coming back from his reverie, finally looks up and… oh. _Oh_.

The boy (who can't be much older than Lance) is, admittedly, handsome. You know, in that roguish sort of way, almost like a pirate. Although his coat is far too fine for the likes of a pirate: a deep wine red velvet, with golden trim. His hair, on the other hand, is a mess. Long pieces of fringe frame his youthful face, nearly covering his deep violet eyes. The rest is tied back messily with a ribbon to match his coat. Overall, he’s very well put together for a hunter.

All of a sudden, Lance feels underdressed. He’s wearing what has become a staple outfit for working around the house: plain trousers, a once-blue button-down shirt that has turned a pale shade of grey, and a headscarf to hold back his more wayward strands of hair. The soot on his cheeks weighs heavily on him, the dirt under his nails blaring the words _don’t look at him. He isn’t worth it._

Lance raises his chin in the air, brushing away the dark thoughts like unwanted cobwebs. _Not now_.

“I’m alright,” Lance says, even though it’s not quite true. “But you nearly scared the life out of him.”

“Him?” the boy asks. They start circling one another, their horses walking as if they were in a show ring. The boy’s horse is well looked after; black glossy hair, a full thick mane, well-defined muscles. He looks like he could be a racing horse.

“The elk!” Lance says. Obviously, who else would he be speaking of? “Why on Earth would you want to chase him like that? What did he ever do to you?”

The boy tilts his head, much like the elk had, in question. “I’m sorry,” he says, although he doesn’t sound it. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“More of an acquaintance,” Lance corrects. “We met a moment ago.” Lance shouldn’t be smiling. This boy does not deserve a smile for willingly hunting such an innocent creature. But there’s something about those eyes. They’re hiding something. Lance is determined to find out what.

“I’m sorry,” the boy says again, his lips quirking. “I’ll confess, I’ve never met him before.”

_So he does have a sense of humour._

“Well if you had,” Lance says, “then you would have seen a magnificent creature who has a lot of life left to live.”

The boy scoffs. “But we’re hunting. It’s… it’s what’s done?”

The smile drops from Lance’s lips. “Just because it’s done, doesn’t mean it’s what _should_ be done.”

The boy’s eyebrows rise well above his hairline. “I, uh,” he says, uncertain, “I never really thought of it that way.”

Lance smiles. What is it about this boy that he can pull smiles out of Lance like treasured toys out of a long-forgotten toy chest?

“What, um, what do they call you?” the boy asks, blowing a piece of fringe out his eyes.

Lance’s name is on the tip of his tongue when he falters.

_You’re nothing but a rag cloth. Look at you, covered in cinders!_

_Cinders! What a befitting name! Don’t you think so, Cinders?_

Cinders.

Lance shakes his head, eyes dropping. “Never mind what they call me,” he says.

He can feel the boy’s eyes on him, imploring.

“What about you?” Lance says instead. “What do they call you, sir?”

The corner of the boy’s lips tilts up, his eyebrows scrunching. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Should I?” Lance says, looking the boy up and down. He doesn’t look familiar. Were they playmates once, perhaps?

“No,” the boy says, shaking his head vigorously, fringe swaying to-and-fro. He bites his bottom lip. “Uh, never mind.”

“May I at least have your name then, sir?” Lance asks, his own lips forming a smile.

“Keith,” the boy supplies. “They call me Keith, or well… my friends do, anyway.”

Lance eyes him. “Keith,” he says, testing out the name. It suits him. “And where do you reside, Mister Keith.”

“Just Keith is fine,” Keith says with a chuckle. “And at the palace.”

Lance’s brows rise of their own accord. “The palace?!”

“Uh, yes,” Keith says, “my uncle is, um, teaching me his trade.”

“Oh!” Lance exclaims, his excitement getting the better of him, “So you’re an apprentice?”

Keith pulls a funny face as if unsure. Lance holds back a giggle.

“Of a sort,” Keith finally replies.

Lance would never admit it, but he was rather impressed. And it explained the fine clothes at least. “That sounds amazing. Do they treat you well up there?”

“Better than I deserve,” Keith says without hesitation.

Lance frowns. Keith doesn’t seem that bad. Reserved, yes, and maybe a little rough around the edges, but overall sweet.

They come to a stop, their horses parallel with one another. Silver and black, Ying and Yang. Blue gives a soft snort. Lance pats her, cooing softly.

“And you?” Keith says. “Do they treat you well?”

Lance falters. No one… no one has ever asked him that.

Keith frowns at Lance’s hesitation.

“They treat me as well as they are able,” Lance finally says. He doesn’t want to complain. It's rude and unnecessary. Honerva and Lotor may not be the kindest people, but that does not mean Lance must stoop down to their level.

Keith remains quiet. Lance can see the apprehension in his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Lance says. “I’m strong, I can take care of myself. Courage and kindness.”

“Courage and kindness?” Keith echoes, his voice soft, almost husky.

“It’s what mama used to say,” Lance says. “That one should always have courage, even in the most trying of times. And having the courage to be kind is the ultimate gift you could ever wish for. So -”

“Courage and kindness,” Keith finishes for him.

Lance nods, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. At the mention of his mother, he could already feel the tears prickling. He is desperate to let them drop. He’s tired. He’s never willing to admit it, but sometimes he feels like it’s impossible. His mother was so strong and beautiful within. Its why she always seemed to glow no matter what. If Lance could just have a smidge of that strength right now, after what Lotor and Honerva said…

He feels a weight on his hand, sees smooth black leather. He looks up, finding violet eyes searching for his own.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says with a sniff, wiping his cheeks. He hopes some of the soot washed away with the tears. “I just –”

“You should never feel sorry for feeling something,” Keith says, giving Lance’s hand a small squeeze. “Your feelings are yours, no one else can experience that. But that doesn’t make them any less valid.”

Lance feels a small breath of air escape his lips, his words no longer working.

Keith clears his throat, withdrawing his hand. “That's something my uncle says.”

“He sounds very wise, your uncle.”

Keith nods. “He is. That’s why he’s so good at his job.”

Lance wants to say something, is trying to find the words when another man appears from the brush, his black stallion coming to a quick halt. Unlike Keith, he is dressed in an all-black uniform, looking more like a military man than a hunter. With his shock of white hair and broad chest, it’s hard not to notice him.

“Ah,” the man says, chuckling. “There you are your hei–”

“IT’S KEITH!” Keith exclaims, startling Lance. “It's me, Keith, your _best friend and brother_. Remember, Shiro?”

The man, Shiro, looks between Keith and Lance, his smile broadening into something wicked. “Riiight. Well, _Keith_ , the rest of the party is looking for you.”

“I’m coming,” Keith says, already swivelling his horse around. He stops, however, turning those deep violet eyes on Lance.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, breathy, barely audible.

“Perhaps,” Lance says, his tone teasing.

“Perhaps?!” Keith says, an incredulous smile gracing his lips. _Finally!_ Lance thinks.

“Well, I hope that perhaps will turn into a yes, very very soon,” Keith continues.

Lance ducks his head, trying to hide the blush slowly creeping up his ears. “Perhaps,” he says again, just to be difficult.

“Perhaps,” Keith says.

“Keith!” Shiro calls. Lance can hear the admonishment in his voice, but there is also a fondness that cannot be overlooked.

“Yes, okay, I’m coming!” Keith says. With a soft click of his tongue, his horse starts trotting towards Shiro.

Lance is about to turn away himself when he remembers. “Oh, Mister Keith!” Lance calls.

Keith stops. Turns in his seat.

“You won’t hurt him, will you?” Lance says.

“Who?” Keith asks.

“The elk!” Lance says, trying hard not to roll his eyes. _Honestly, this boy_.

Keith blinks, eyebrows furrowed. But then his lips twitch and he’s shaking his head. “Yes,” he says, meeting Lance’s eyes for the final time. “Yes, I promise.”

Lance nods in thanks. He can’t help his grin, tear stains and all. He prays Keith returns it.

_Oh what the heck. Just smile, it never hurt anyone._

And, to Lance’s delight, Keith does return it. And it’s beautiful, his eyes crinkling in the corners, a dimple biting into his right cheek. Keith should definitely smile more often. Before Lance can say as much, Keith is following Shiro out of the clearing and into the woods, disappearing amongst the trees.

Lance sighs. Warmth blooms through his chest, his head feeling fuzzy (but in the good sort of way).

“He’s quite something, hey Blue?” Lance says, stroking Blue’s neck.

Blue whinnies in agreement, stamping a hoof.

Lance laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favourite,” he says. He leans down, whispering conspiratorially in Blue’s ear. “But don’t you dare tell the mice, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Blue snorts, as if to say _duh_.

“Atta girl,” Lance says, straightening up. He looks out to where Keith and Shiro had disappeared, hoping to maybe see a shot of red. But no, no Mister Keith is gone.

 _For now,_ a small part of him says, hopes dearly.

 _Yes_ , Lance thinks as he starts directing him and Blue home in a light trot. A small smile graces his lips at the thought.

_Perhaps we will._


End file.
